by J. L. Wyer
I love the country twang of Florida Georgia Line and can’t stop myself from singing along. Ryder’s thumb drums the steering wheel with the beat as I drape my arm out the open window and play with the wind, letting it push through my fingers. After another three songs and ten minutes have passed, Ryder turns at a sign that has the words “go-cart racing” on it.
“Really? Go-carts?”
Ryder grins that heart-melting smile at me. “Is that okay with you?”
“Are you kidding me? Yes!” I’m already bouncing in my seat when he parks the car.
“This is a little mom-and-pop place off the beaten path,” he explains as we walk inside. “My dad knows the owner, so don’t be surprised when—”
“Ryder!” a voice booms from across the room. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by today?” An older man with curly red hair and a matching beard walks around the counter and pulls Ryder into a hug. “Good to see you, boy. Wait. Is this?”
“Frank, you remember Elizabeth. Elizabeth, meet Frank.”
I hold out my hand and notice Frank’s eyes go wide when he looks at me. His hand hesitates mid-air before taking mine. “Of course, I remember Lizzie.”
He looks at Ryder quizzically and I explain, “I was in a car accident and lost my memory.”
“I heard about that. Well, I'll be damned. This is…it’s nice to meet you again, Elizabeth,” he finally says.
“I promised Elizabeth some fun.”
Frank squeezes my hand warmly, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We have go-carts, putt-putt, arcade games, batting cages. Take your pick.”
“Can we do all of them?”
“You got it, pretty girl. Ryder knows his way around. I’ll leave you two to it.” Ryder tries to hand Frank some money, but Frank pushes it back. “You know better. Have fun with your girl.”
I get all giddy when Frank says I’m Ryder’s girl. Neither of us correct him.
“What do you want to do first?”
I grab Ryder’s pinky finger with mine and tug him to the doors that will take us outside. “Definitely go-carts.”
We spend about an hour racing our little cars around the track. A few families come and go while we’re there, but like Ryder said, it doesn’t get too crowded. After carting, we play a round of mini golf. Ryder lets me cheat, which I blatantly and shamelessly do, and afterwards, we play a few video games and some pinball too. With each thing we do, I make sure to take selfies of the two of us. I’m making new memories and having so much fun that I don’t notice we’ve been here for four hours until my stomach makes a loud gurgle.
Ryder and I are playing that stupid dance game where you stomp your feet on colored squares. We’re both a mess of legs and are continuously bumping into each other, but I’m having the time of my life. I’m way past sweaty and I pulled my hair up into a loose bun hours ago. I snort out a giggle when I crash into Ryder’s side, then trip. He easily catches me but as soon as I look up at his face, time freezes. I’m overcome with a sense of déjà vu, like he’s held me like this before. Instinctively, I lift up on my toes, my gaze zeroed in on his mouth. Ryder’s hands grip my waist and I feel them tighten slightly, making my skin tingle all over. Holy crap. I want to kiss him — badly.
My stomach makes another loud growl and I’m both thankful and disappointed when Ryder pulls away. He clears his throat. “Want to grab something to eat? I know a place nearby that makes the best burgers and fries.”
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. A burger with all the toppings sounds fantastic. “That actually sounds really good.”
Ryder calls out, “Hey, Frank! We’re heading out. Thanks for today.”
Frank appears from a back room connected to the arcade. “Glad you came by. Don’t be a stranger. That includes you too, Lizzie.”
“You have a great place. I had a lot of fun.”
Frank smiles at me and slaps Ryder on the back. I wave bye, and Ryder pushes the door open for me so we can leave.
We spend the rest of our afternoon at a diner making conversation over greasy burgers and unlimited refills of soda. We talk about nothing and everything, and I enjoy every minute of Ryder’s company.
Pulling up in my driveway, our day out together coming to an end, I look over at him. “That was such a great idea. Thank you for today. I had fun.”
“Me, too. I’ve missed hanging out with you. It was almost like old times.”
He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. This guy. So freaking nice.
Walking me to my front door, Ryder says, “I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow.” He's looking at me expectantly and I want to beg him not to go.
“Okay.”
Neither one of us makes a move to leave.
“Ryder?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we do that again? Hang out, I mean.”
“Of course,” he says easily.
We look at one another, my green eyes melting into his copper-brown ones. I won’t be able to take the charged tension between us much longer because I’ll wind up doing something stupid, like trying to climb him like a jungle gym.
“Okay. See you in the morning, then,” I tell him.
I pop up quickly to place a kiss on his cheek before escaping inside the house. I hurry to the living room window and peek out, watching as he drives off. Oh, Elizabeth, you are in trouble, I think. You are so falling for that boy. I wait a half hour before I text him.
Me: Thanks again for today.
HellcatClone: My pleasure.
Me: Are you busy next weekend?
HellcatClone: Nothing I can’t get out of. Why?
Me: Have any more fun times to share?
Why did I send that? It sounds like I’m propositioning him. Maybe I am.
HellcatClone: I can think of a few things.
My mind immediately daydreams about him kissing me and I give myself a mental slap in the face.
HellcatClone: Want me to teach you how to surf? The beach is about two hours away by car.
Yes! I do. That sounds awesome.
Me: Did I know how to before?
HellcatClone: A little. Building sandcastles and taking long walks along the beach were more your style.
Me: Surfing sounds great. Do I need a special surfing suit or something?
HellcatClone: No special suit. Waves aren’t that big here. More goofing around on the board than anything else.
Me: Okay. Yes. That sounds awesome.
Me: Goodnight, Ryder.
HellcatClone: Goodnight, sweet Elizabeth.
Chapter 11
I'm Not That Girl Anymore
Elizabeth
“I can’t believe I just ran seven miles,” I pant out, my hands braced on my knees as sweat pours down my face and back.
The man next to me jogs in place looking fresh as a daisy. I, however, look like I just ran through a car wash in the middle of a hurricane.
“Seriously, Julien. You do this every morning?” My legs begin to tremble, so I plop down onto the grass.
Sitting down beside me, Julien reaches over to pull me to his side despite my protests of being sweaty and gross. “I can do ten miles in an hour’s time,” he brags, and I smack his arm.
“Show off. I think I may need a few minutes before I’m able to stand back up.”
Like the stupid girl I am, when Julien invited me to come with him for his five a.m. run this morning, I was more than happy to say yes, even though it meant I would have to wake up at four-thirty. I started running several times a week a few months ago as a way to get back in shape after the doctors cleared me to resume physical activity. I can do four miles easily; however, I overestimated my level of fitness. At four-and-a-half miles, Julien had to turn into a drill sergeant to get me to do one more, and then he resorted to bribes.
I start to tally up the prizes he promised to give me if I finished. “Let’s see. You owe me not only a night of karaoke at Belly’s,�
� — he groans at this — “but also a dinner of my choice and a rom-com movie. Am I leaving anything out?”
“The T-shirt.”
I collapse into a fit of laughter. “How could I forget the T-shirt?”
I can’t wait to get it made. I know exactly what I want the front of the shirt to say and I’m going to make sure it’s the gaudiest color of hot pink. And he’ll have to wear it for the entire day — even at school.
Julien groans again. “Don’t remind me.”
He buries his face on my damp shoulder and I pat the top of his head with a “poor baby.”
“I never did ask, but why didn’t Elijah come with us? Didn’t you say that you usually torture him every morning?” I still haven't met Elijah yet, but I'm dying to. From what Julien tells me, Elijah and I were good friends.
“He understands that I want to spend time with you.”
“What time is it?” I ask him.
He checks his fitness watch. “We should head back if Ryder and Jayson are meeting us at your house for breakfast at six-thirty. We’re only a couple of blocks away, so it won’t take long. Five minutes tops.”
Yes, that is another thing I reluctantly agreed to — having breakfast with them a few times a week. They told me it was one of the things we used to do. When Julien arrived to get me this morning for our run, he dropped off a bag at my place so he could shower there afterward and not have to rush back home. It made sense, and Daniel was okay with it seeing as the boys were all coming over for breakfast anyway.
I reach over and take his hand. “I think I’m going to need you to help me up. My legs don’t want to work.”
Julien doesn’t even use his arms to lift himself up off the ground. In one lithe move, he stands up using only his legs. I gawk at his strength. He may be lean, but his leg muscles are impressive. He bends down and lifts me like I weigh no more than a feather. My laughter suddenly dies when I’m standing and we are face to face, his silver eyes flashing. Julien touches my cheek, taking his time to gently pick away individual strands of hair that are stuck to my skin with sweat. He loops the strands behind my ears.
“Julien?”
One slow second passes. Two. Three. Then the spell is broken.
“Come on,” he tells me as he grips my hand and laces our fingers.
We walk hand in hand together back to my house. It’s early daybreak and a halo of sunlight spears the horizon to signal the start of another day.
“Think I can convince you to come running with me again?” he asks.
“Do I get more rewards?”
“That can be negotiated. I’ll have to take bad karaoke off the table for our next run.”
I feign shock at his words. “But you have such a lovely singing voice.” He really doesn’t, but I had such a great time doing our duet together at Belly’s. “Did I do that a lot?”
Our linked hands are swinging between us like we’re two four-year-old best friends skipping down the sidewalk.
“Yeah. You used to sing and play for us all the time. You were phenomenal. Truly talented. Your dad—” He stops abruptly. “I’m sorry, Liz.”
We’ve avoided all conversation about my parents and sister so far. It’s like a silent agreement between the four of us that we steer clear of that topic. This may sound horrible, but I know it bothers them more than it does me because I don’t remember my family at all. They do, however, and it’s clear the pain is still there. My memory loss has protected me from that pain so far. I avoid thinking about how that will change if my memories do return.
“Julien, it’s fine. I’m fine. You can say whatever you want to say.”
He side-eyes me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m telling him the truth. Hesitantly, he begins again. “Your dad taught you how to play. The guitar, the piano, the drums. He was really good. Always traveling with his band to do shows. You took after him — his talent, I mean. Not the traveling part.”
“That was one thing I was bewildered about with the amnesia. I couldn’t figure out how I knew how to play so many different musical instruments but couldn’t remember how I learned to do so, or who taught me.
As we approach my house, Jayson and Ryder are sitting on the top step, waiting with cups of coffee and stuffed paper bags in their hands. Jayson levels a look at my hand in Julien’s, and Julien drops mine like it’s electrified.
“You guys are early,” I remark, stepping between them to unlock the front door.
Last night when I told him I would be running this morning with Julien, Daniel mentioned that he had an early morning meeting. He said he would be gone by six, and not to be surprised if he wasn't here when I came back from my run.
Ryder stands up and follows me inside. I hear Jayson say to Julien, “What was that all about?”
“Liz, you want the shower first?” Julien asks me. He bends down to pick up the bag he left near the front door.
Ryder hands me a coffee and jiggles one of the paper bags he’s holding. The smell of food is too enticing. “Nah, you can go first.”
“We brought a variety of scones, muffins, and donuts,” Ryder informs me.
Seven miles surely works up an appetite, and right now, I want to shove as many donuts in my face as possible. I am that hungry.
Ryder takes a plate out of my cupboard and starts piling pastries on it. Cinnamon scones, glazed and powdered donuts, a few varieties of muffin tops. I snatch a chocolate covered donut from his hand before he’s able to put it down on the plate, and I take a big bite. God, that’s so good. Whoever discovered chocolate is a genius.
“Where’d you get these?” I ask with my mouth full.
“Julien told us about that bakery you found.”
I give Ryder a thumbs up.
Jayson comes to stand beside me and leans in to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “Morning, princess.”
“Stop it,” I mumble as I chew.
He pulls me toward him, and I push him back to reach for another donut. He then tries to throw his arm around my shoulder, and I duck. He steps behind me and I glide to the side.
“Jayson.”
“Liz.”
He’s full-on smirking at me now, a twinkle in his gray eyes. Ryder is leaning back against the counter watching us do our little dance of chase and evade. Julien walks in the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower, and sees me and Jayson circling the counter. In one quick movement, Jayson reaches out to grab me and throws me over his shoulder.
“Hey!” I yelp.
“Shower time. You smell,” he says and carries me over his shoulder down the hallway.
Like being hit with a jarring bolt of electricity, my body jolts and my vision tunnels as memory flashes hurtle to the front of my mind. I’m barraged by images of Jayson and Ryder. Memories of different times when they both picked me up and carried me over their shoulders just like this. Memories of my laughter and shrieks of delight. I blink and the image changes to a room, like a garage. A black Challenger sits up on a car lift. My eyes are glued on Ryder’s face as he lifts me, our lips locked in a fierce, open-mouthed kiss.
“Jayson, put me down.”
He must hear something in my voice because he stops abruptly and does as I say.
“What’s wrong, princess?”
Exhausted from my run with Julien and unnerved by these new flashes of memories, I snap.
“I’m not your princess!” I shout at him. “I’m not your baby! Stop trying to make me be the girlfriend you used to know. I. Am. Not. Her!”
“What's going on?” Ryder says before he pushes between us, tucking me behind him in a protective move.
“Liz?” Jayson’s voice is filled with hurt and confusion.
“It's not fair...Why does...I can't...Argh!” I'm shouting gibberish, feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, as I fist my hands in my hair. And now I feel guilty because Jayson has this hurt look on his face. It’s like I kicked a defenseless puppy. It’s too much. I bang my fist against the wall and stalk off to my bedroom
to get away from everyone.
As soon as I get to my room, I slam the door, taking satisfaction in the loud crack of sound it makes. Sitting down on my bed, I give myself a minute to calm down.
Screw that. I yank my pillow up to my face and scream into it. I curse the world. I curse myself. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt Jayson. But I hate it when he keeps pushing and pushing. He wants me to be the girlfriend I used to be. I can’t. I don't remember me being that person. I don’t remember him in that way. I don’t want him like that. You want Ryder. You want Ryder to want you like that.
Someone knocks gently against the bedroom door. I scowl at it.
“Elizabeth,” Ryder speaks quietly to me through the door. “Elizabeth, open up, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
“Talk to me. Please. Let me help.”
After a few petulant minutes, I open the door to find Ryder patiently waiting on the other side. He opens his arms and I immediately go to him. I need this. I need him. I hold him tight and bury myself deep against his chest.
“I told Jay to take off and give you some space.”
“I appreciate that,” I mumble against his shirt, marveling at how soft the fabric is. He smells good too. What is wrong with me?
“Julien’s in the kitchen. Want to tell me what happened?”
I heave a huge sigh. “No.”
“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you. So is Julien.” He tilts his face down and presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “And so is Jayson. He loves you, Elizabeth. He’s loved you most of his life. This is really hard for him.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Didn’t you love me too?”
He tenses. “Yes.”
“So why is it harder for him than it is for you, or for Julien?”
Ryder doesn’t answer me, and in not answering, he tells me everything.
I release my hold on him. “I need to take a shower and get ready for school. Jayson was right. I do smell.” I scrunch my nose up.
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do.”
He presses one last kiss to my forehead and turns to walk away. Looking back at me he affirms, “It’s going to be okay, Elizabeth,” and closes my bedroom door.